


Harvard Drag

by Schuyler



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schuyler/pseuds/Schuyler
Summary: “So, you like it then?” Shitty asked, later, glowing with sweat. She had taken one look at his fresh haircut, hustled him back to his apartment, and fucked him. The khakis were still tangled around his knees and Lardo was still balanced on his hips.
“I think I’m learning things about myself,” she said.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [templemarker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/templemarker/gifts).



The morning after the first time they slept together, Lardo woke to Shitty staring at her. “Hrngh?” she said. He looked wild-eyed and manic.

“You’ll still love me if I get the chop, right?”   
  
“Yeah, Shits,” she said, actually opening her eyes and trying to focus on him. “Of course.” 

“Then I’m ready. Let’s fuckin’ do this thing!”

Half an hour later she was on the back porch, chopping off the flow with the Haus’ only pair of scissors. When she was done, she kissed his forehead. “See? Still into you.”

 

  
By the middle of July, Shitty was moved into an apartment near Harvard and Lardo seemed to spend all of her time either with him or texting him pictures of haircuts. “We gotta get that shit under control,” she’d said while she was helping him move in. His hair had grown out all weird and was always in his eyes. He looked like he might be thinking about taking up skateboarding.

“What, you want me to look like one of these Harvard douchebags?”

She lifted up on her toes to ruffle his hair. “Bad news, babe. You are a Harvard douchebag.” He pouted and she kissed him. “That’s ok. Harvard douchebags are hot sometimes.” 

Now she found herself scouring menswear catalogs for hair inspiration and texting them to him. “My stylist can get you in on Wednesday,” she said, along with a picture of a guy on a yacht. 

“Oh my God,” he responded. “That is fuckin’ hilarious. Let’s do it.”    
  


 

Shitty showed up to Dye Screaming in a sweater with elbow patches and _khakis_. “What in God’s name are you wearing?!” she said, holding him at arm’s length to look. 

He couldn’t stop grinning. “I figured if I was gonna get a douchebag haircut, I should look the part.” 

Lardo basically shoved him into Kora’s chair. “I cannot wait for this.” 

  
  


“So, you like it then?” he asked, later, glowing with sweat. She had taken one look at his fresh haircut, hustled him back to his apartment, and fucked him. The khakis were still tangled around his knees and Lardo was still balanced on his hips. 

“I think I’m learning things about myself,” she said. She ran her hands through his hair, messing up the careful wave, and he just smiled at her. Then she grabbed tight and pulled and he still shut his eyes and moaned, just like always. 

  
  


“See, Benji!” his grandmother said when he wore the sweater and khakis to dinner. “You look so nice dressed like that!” He could feel Lardo, standing next to him, vibrate not to laugh. “Don’t you think so, Larissa?” 

She nodded hard. “I think he looks great, Mrs. Knight.” 

“That’s really how you should be dressing at law school,” she said, then rifled through her purse. “Here, get yourself some more clothes like that.” She pressed a card into his hand and suddenly Shitty and Lardo had a Brooks Brothers Platinum Card.   
  
  


“I shouldn’t use this, right?” he asked her later. He was sprawled in the big armchair in his living room while she grabbed beer out of his (really appallingly empty) fridge. 

“You totally should,” she says, walking back across the loft. “One, it’s free stuff and no one’s ever too good for free stuff.” She handed him a Sam Adams, then sank down into his lap. “Two, I think I like your Harvard drag. It’s subversive, isn’t it?” 

He set his beer on the end table and looped his arms around her waist. “How so?” 

“You’re undercover. A liberal feminist freak going undercover into the heart of the establishment.” She twisted around to curl close. “They won’t know that you’re going in to learn their tricks to fight against them.”

“Also, you think it’s hot.”

“Well, yes. It’s like you’re wearing a Sexy Asshole costume for Halloween.” She tipped her head back to grin at him. “Full disclosure: I might ravish you in the dressing room.” 

“Then we’re going tomorrow.” 

  
  


One of the things Lardo had noticed since she started being introduced around the family as Benji’s girlfriend was that he was a master at code-switching. Shitty and Benji were completely different people and, while it had been Shitty that smoked a joint with her on the balcony before they left the apartment, it was definitely Benji who opened the door and ushered her into Brooks Brothers the next afternoon. They were approached by a staff member inside of two minutes. “Welcome to Brooks Brothers. Do you need any help?”

“Actually,” Shitty said, “I’m starting at Harvard Law this fall and my grandmother has demanded a new wardrobe befitting a law student.”

The salesperson laughed like she heard this frequently. “Then you’ve come to the right place. Let’s get you measured and then we can find the right looks for you.” 

  
  


“Brooks Brothers has personal shoppers,” Lardo sent to the group text twenty minutes later along with a picture of herself in a wing chair with a cup of tea. 

> Ransom: WHAT IS GOING ON RIGHT NOW??
> 
> Lardo: #brahminlyfe

Shitty’s personal shopper was a gorgeous man with an unplaceable European accent named Carlo. He took every possible measurement of Shitty’s body and tapped them all into an iPad, then handed Shitty a blue robe. “Now, I will go and pull some pieces and then we can begin to really refine your look.”

He disappeared through a back door and Shitty flopped into the other chair. Lardo pressed their cheeks together to get a picture of both of them for the group.

> Ransom: IS HE WEARING A BATHROBE?!?

“I wonder if they’ll bring me a beer,” Shitty said, fishing the bag of peanut M&Ms out of Lardo’s purse. 

“For what you’re about to spend, I think they’d probably bring you cocaine.” 

“I’m totally gonna get some of their fancy underwear,” he said, mouth full of chocolate. “Gonna show up at Jack’s in my expensive underwear because we’re both fancy motherfuckers now.”

Carlo was gone half an hour, in which time they’d texted Ransom no more explanation, but several risque photos of Shitty lounged on the floor of this fancy dressing room like he was in Playgirl, and promised Bitty that they would ask Carlo about bowties.

“Now the real work begins,” Carlo said, wheeling in a packed garment rack. Shitty jumped to his feet and Lardo settled into watch. 

Shitty went behind the curtain with Carlo’s first selection of items and came back out dressed like an assistant economics professor. He was standing in front of the mirrors when he caught the hungry, predatory look in her eyes. She wasn’t trying to hide it. There was something about her Shitty dressed up like that, wearing the skin of the entitled assholes she’d been fighting her whole life, that was really doing it for her. She wanted to hatefuck him. 

“All right,” Carlo said after six outfits, each of which had been punctuated by an escalation in the sexual tension in the room. “Now we have to pick a suit. Give me a little time.” He wheeled his rack out again and Lardo was on her feet in seconds, prowling across the room to push Shitty up against the mirror. 

“So you like it, then?” She didn’t respond, just bit at the side of his neck and dug her fingers under the layers of sweater and shirt to rake her nails across his skin. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t ya?” he said, his dialect getting crisper as he tossed his hair back from his forehead. He sounded like every loud asshole talking about European vacations in the Starbucks in Harvard Square. “I suppose that this kind of thing is why you date an artist.” She growled and jumped, letting him take her weight as she wrapped her legs around his waist. 

When their mouths slammed together, he moaned softly and still let his head tip back for her, offering himself up like he always did. She hiked herself up higher so she could tilt her head down to kiss him, establish dominance. “Dressing room. Now.” He stumbled through the curtain and she swished it shut behind them without breaking the kiss. Lardo squirmed down to her feet and kissed his ear. “I’m gonna blow you, Benji,” she murmured. “And you’re gonna be a good little boy and not make a sound.” His breath went shuddery and his hands clenched into fists. She nipped at his ear and he whined, then she dropped to her knees.

Shitty kept his hands flat against the wall while she unbuttoned the chinos and shoved them down with his briefs. “Hold,” she said, pushing his shirt up, and he held the tails up out of her way. His cock was hard and flushed red and she glared at it. Shitty held his breath until she darted forward and devoured it, mouth going to the root on the first pass. He used his free hand to clamp over his mouth, but she could still hear the desperate whine. This was gonna be fast.

Lardo used her hand to pump the shaft with the same sharp twisting motion she’d learned when they’d masturbated in front of each other. Her tongue flicked and jabbed and caressed the head of his cock and Shitty was already leaking like crazy. She looked up and he was so fucking beautiful, trying to be quiet for her because she’d asked, hair all in his eyes, mouth open to gasp. She kept her eyes on him while just barely touched her teeth to his circumcision scar and his eyes opened wide as he came in her mouth. He shook, weak and whimpering, as she licked him clean, and then he dropped to his knees to kiss her. His tongue explored all of her mouth, chasing his own taste, and she let him. She loved the way his smile felt against her face. 

“Oh my god, how much time did that take?” he asked. 

“Literally like 90 seconds,” she said, leaning against him. “Hella embarrassing for you.” 

“Fuck that,” he said. “Shit was hot. I want a medal for holding out that long.” He slipped a hand under her shirt and rested his fingers over the button of her jeans. 

“Go for it,” she said, answering his question, and he popped open the button and slid open the zipper. She caught his mouth again, kissed him slow and lazy as his fingers found her clit. This was what she’d shown him that afternoon. Just how to touch her clit to make her come in seconds. His rhythm wasn’t as solid as her own, obviously, but she liked the way his hands felt different than her own. They were wider, a little rougher, and it was Shitty. Her boy. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and moaned into his mouth as her hips moved against him, rubbing herself on his hand. He didn’t say anything, just let her take. As she sped up, her kisses devolved into just breathing against Shitty’s skin. “Yes,” she whispered against his cheek. “Oh my god, Shits, fuck.” His fingers curled just right and she muffled herself against his shoulder as she cried out, her whole body trembling as she came. He used his other arm to hold her close until she slowed to a stop. He could have chirped her for not lasting any longer than he did, but he kissed her hairline instead. 

 

 

When Carlo returned with the rack of suits, they were both curled into one armchair and all the little tea cookies were gone. “Larissa, if you liked him in the leisurewear, you’re going to love him in the suits.”


End file.
